


What Happens Behind Closed Doors

by orphan_account



Category: MorMor - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Teenlock - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Teenlock, Unilock, if you're not down with reading quite descriptive murder then don't read this fic, maybe some murder, mormor, probably eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian gets a roommate at uni and is worried about him finding out his secrets. But Jim has some secrets of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fuck this shit. Why the hell do my parents think I want to go to Oxford. All posh shit. I know enough to get along in the world why can't I just move out away from my shit of a family?

Oh yeah, because my parents are rich condescending bastards who "want the best for me".

There was no point arguing. They are stubborn and there is no way I could win an argument against them without smashing their heads open. I didn't want to do that. Messy business - killing your parents. Always so transparent to the investigators. Not worth it.

So here I am; wheeling my suitcase up two flights of stairs to my student accommodation apartment. It's shared because "it will do you some good to make a friend". Yeah right. More like shag him or throw him out of a window. Or both.

At least it's an actual apartment though. I would kill myself if I had to share a tiny all-in-one-room flat with a stuck up posh twat. The campus is going to be full of those. Fuck it.

I'm barely even planning on turning up to classes to be honest. English lit? No.

I arrive at the right door. After checking my hand for the code I had written on with a ballpoint pen I punched in 2113. When I walk in I head straight for the nearest door. Kitchen. I put my food bag down on the table. I walk out.

The next door I try is a bedroom. I throw my case down on the bed. The only good thing about coming here is that this university is about 20 minutes from my parents house so I didn't have to bring everything at once. Right now I just have a few changes of clothes, a bedsheet and duvet cover, enough food to fill a whole fridge and a pack of cigarettes.

Cigarettes. I really hope my flatmate will be okay with smoking.

I walk out into the living room. It's not big but that's good because open spaces with no use annoy me. I look out the window, the view is what people would call urban beauty or some shit. Just buildings. I open the window to check if I'm going to be living in one of those smelly areas.

I stick my head out and breathe in. Nothing worse than everywhere else in this city. There's probably going to be the smell of substance abuse on the street below in the early hours of a Sunday morning. Oh well. My windows will be long closed then.

When I look around I see a balcony a few meters to my right. I pull my head back inside and look right. There's a door. I doubt that there would be a balcony coming out of the bathroom so that means that behind the door is my future flatmate's bedroom. I can't be bothered changing rooms now so he is just going to have to put up with me going through his room to smoke on the balcony. It's not like I could smoke in the apartment, even if he is fine with it. Fucking smoke alarm.

I go inside and straight through the room and out the french windows and onto the balcony. I light up and take a long drag, sighing out the smoke with relief. Nothing like good old Marlboro.

I turn and lean back against the railing. Smoking with every other breath, I look at the room in front of me. Double bed - same as mine, slightly bigger room with a slightly bigger wardrobe. I don't mind. Open spaces with no use annoy me.

Police sirens. I turn around and drop my cigarette, squashing it out with my foot. Then I kick it over the edge of the balcony.

"You're in my room."


	2. Chapter 2

"You're in my room." The voice is behind me, kind of quiet so far away - he's probably in the doorway to the room. He sounds like he's trying to be intimidating. His voice is soft and a tad too high pitched to be scary. I shiver a little anyway.

"I assume this is my room anyway. There's already a case in the other one."  I don't respond. There's a little Irish twang in his words and he doesn't sound too snobbish so far; you can almost always tell within the first few words spoken. He actually sounds kind of alright, maybe when he sounds as if he's trying to intimidate me that's his actual voice. Probably psychological.  Ignored middle child? Short as a kid? Picked on a lot?

"Are you okay? Only you're not saying much." He almost sounds cute. Bless him. He doesn't know who he's with. Then again the same applies to me.

"Yeah! Sorry... zoned out a bit." I turn around and say to him, trying my best to look a bit dazed.

He smirks like he knows something and I swear an amused "hmph". Although my imagination runs away with me. I look him up and down. So it's the short thing. He didn't seem a snob but he's wearing an expensive looking tailored suit and leaning on the handle of a Louis Vuitton suitcase. So much for hope. 

Saying that, I probably look like a snob too. Fuck my parents - dressing me up like one of them.

"Do you plan on leaving?" He asks me. 

"Yeah, course. I was just out for a smoke." I walk back in the room and straight out the door, brushing past him quite hard on my way out. He stumbles back a little and lets out a faked sound of shock at my slight aggressiveness.

"I imagine you'll be wanting to come through here to smoke multiple times a day." he says calmly when I start to walk away.

"Yes," I pause and answer.

"No."

"What?" I turn around and look at him. He isn't even looking at me, he's facing the window, distracted, as if this conversation isn't important enough for his full attention. I'm trying not to make assumptions but he is almost definitely a prick.

"Well, no offense but I don't know you and I don't want someone coming through my bedroom whenever they feel like it." he pauses and looks amused with himself before continuing, "or at all, for that matter."

"Look, I don't fancy living with you either but smoking is the only thing that keeps me sane and this apartment has smoke alarms everywhere, It's not like I can just take them down, that's illegal and a fire risk. And I can tell you now that I'm not going up and down those stairs five times a day. So yeah, I'm going to use your fucking balcony."

"If you ask me you could do with all those stairs." he turns slightly, looks me in the eyes and then glances down at my chest and back up with a little smirk on his smug face. "You can take out the smoke alarms if you want, I won't tell on you. Promise" he puts on a childish voice and fakes a smile at me before turning away again, "You really shouldn't smoke you know. It'll kill you someday. Then again, it'll kill me too."

He takes out a cigarette and lighter, gives me one last smile then slams the door in my face. Before I walk away I hear footsteps towards the balcony.

So much for making friends. I don't want to talk to someone with their head that far up their arse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short! That was kind of just a filler chapter to show first impressions and such. Hope you're all enjoying it! Thanks for all the positive comments so far, they really make my day :3


	3. Chapter 3

I hate this.

I hate him.

This whole thing was arranged by our parents - all the wealthy people know each other. That's why I'm here in this goddamned apartment with that goddamned bastard.

I just found out that there's no microwave. After I unpacked my bag of food - without consulting my roommate about who has what cupboard or shelf of the fridge - I went to make a microwave meal. And there's no fucking microwave. Of course not. Probably my parents trying to get me to learn how to cook and eat healthier. Fuck that. I'll buy a cheap microwave.

After that I decide to skip tea and I walk back to my parent's house. I say house, it would probably be more accurate to say mansion. I just want to go in, pick up my earlier forgotten laptop, and my weapons kit and get out. All without bumping into my parents. Shouldn't be too hard. 

I use my key to go in through the back entrance - less of a chance of being noticed going that way. When I'm in I take the quickest route to my bedroom. I don't see anybody but the butler. I flash him a fake smile and walk past him without a word.

When I enter my room I go to my walk in wardrobe and take out the duffel bag. It's quite heavy but I'm okay with carrying weight. I put it down on my bed and unzip it. I need to make sure everything is there.

I go through my mental checklist:

  * Penknife
  * Hammer
  * Handgun
  * Cleaning Stuff
  * Shovel
  * Wrist Straps
  * Mallet
  * Meat Cleaver (how hasn't Cook noticed that's missing?!)



It's all there. Thank god. What would the government say if they found out that my parents' son got into fights and killed people.

Probably something racist.

On that note, I should take everything out of my room that somehow makes me look like a danger to Britain.

I check all my draws; Chloroform, Swiss Army Knife, Rope, Bottles of Vodka (I should probably move that too) and a pack of lighters.

They all go in the bag and I zip it up. I never realised just how much stuff I have. Oops. I check the rest of my room but I don't find anything apart from a full packet of cigarettes under the bed. I must be quite tidy.

I go and find the case in my wardrobe and put the laptop and charger in. Then I double check the room for anything and leave.

After managing to get out of the house, minus being spotted by my parents, I go to Tesco.

The flat needs some milk, orange juice, toilet paper and a microwave. I'll pay for the microwave, it's not like I don't have enough money and I'm buying a cheap one anyway. I don't want to ask my roommate to chip in anyway.

***

After picking up the milk and orange juice I head to the toilet paper aisle. While walking around I realise that I don't know my roommate's name. Not that I really care, it would just probably be useful if I find out.

***

While going up the stairs I think that it would have been a good idea to drop off my stuff before going to Tesco. This shit is heavy.

When I get to the door I put in the code and rush to the kitchen table where I proceed to put everything down and sigh. I put the milk and juice in the fridge and go into the bathroom and put the toilet paper next to the toilet. Then I go back to the kitchen and take all of my stuff into my room.

I put the duffel bag at the bottom of the wardrobe and unpack some clothes on top of it as a lazy attempt at hiding it. It's not like anybody will be coming into my room anyway.

When I've set my laptop up on the desk I go out into the living room. I really don't want to talk to him but I really should tell my roommate that I've bought some food and that.

I walk over and knock on the door twice.

"Hello?" I don't get an immediate reply. He could have headphones in? Or he might be out-

"Come in." I open the door just in time to see him closing the lid to his laptop and jumping up off the bed to face me. From that I'd say he was watching porn but he's fully dressed and very composed looking. God knows about this kid.

"Hey, I got some milk and orange juice. It's in the fridge, you can use it if you want. Also I bought a microwave because there wasn't one, so I just got a Tesco Value one which you can use too." I pause for a second, "I think that's all... Oh and I got some toilet paper."

He gives me a funny look before asking "Tesco Value?" then he walks past me, into the kitchen and back before looking at me.

"What d'you buy that for? You can obviously afford a Russell Hobbs microwave rich boy." He sounds annoyed.

"What's wrong with Tesco Value? It's just a fucking microwave! They all cook stuff so what difference does it ma- Hang on, what the fuck did you just call me? My name is Seb. Terribly sorry if it inconveniences you to call me that." My mind is made up.  _Prick._

"Sebastian." He rolls my name around on his tongue. "Oh you really are posh aren't you?"

"I did not say Sebastian. I. Said. Seb." I reply, my fists curling, "And I suppose your parents didn't give you a stupid name either?"

"Jim. Not too bad." Jim said, a smug look on his face as if he had beat me.

"If you do say so yourself. Look, I've bought the microwave now and it's not going anywhere. And again, my name is Seb, it would do you well to remember it." I say, trying to sound a tad scary. I probably sound like a twat.

I walk into Jim's bedroom and out on the balcony and start smoking.

"I said you could  _not_ go through my room!" Jim shouts and storms into the room.

"Well I'm not getting rid of the smoke alarms." I say calmly.

I stand there and calmly finish the cigarette, Jim giving me a death glare the whole time. Then I walk to my room.

Before I close my door I sarcastically shout "Night, Jim." I think I hear a muffled "Fuck you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that at this point I should probably say that as I write this I'm picturing Sebastian Stan as Seb but that's just how I picture teenlock Seb so just ignore me. Also I'm not sure if it's clear but the chapters so far are all supposed to be one day. Hope you're all enjoying it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passive aggressive Jim is the best, sorry in advance.

For some reason I wake up at 5am. It was probably just a noise outside but it doesn't really matter; now that I'm awake I won't be able to get to sleep again, there's no point trying, it's just this thing that my stupid brain does to me.

Maybe it was hunger that made me wake up, because now I think about it I'm really fucking hungry. I shouldn't have skipped tea last night. I sit up and stretch my arms before making an attempt to flatten my bedhead hair.

Food.

I stand up and go to leave my room when I realise I should put some clothes on. I grab a pair of oversized shorts and put them on. I'd be fine walking around wearing nothing but I probably shouldn't because of Jim.

I walk out the door and straight to the kitchen. After pouring some cornflakes and a bit of milk into a mug - no fucking bowls yet - I lean against the countertop and eat it with a teaspoon. While eating I don't really have anything to do, so I aimlessly look around the room. Door to a tiny larder. Oven. Fridge Freezer. Clock. Wrong time. Microwave. Wrong microwave. Russell fucking Hobbs microwave.

I cannot believe Jim. He must have gone out in the early hours of the morning to buy a new microwave, primarily to piss me off. No way is that little shit getting away with this.

I stomp out of the kitchen to Jim's room and try to push the door open. It doesn't budge. What? I look the door up and down and see a newly fitted lock that definitely wasn't there last night. Oh that fucker. I bang on the door with my fist.

"What?" Jim says from inside, sounding calm and like he has been awake for hours.

"Open this door right now, you twat." I shout back at him.

I hear some shuffling about inside and then Jim opens his door a crack, sticking his head around it.

"What do you want?" Jim says with a completely neutral face.

"I think you know what I fucking want." I say, trying to calm down.

Jim lazily shrugs and gives me a little smile.

"The microwave."

"Ah yes, I just popped out to get that last night. I couldn't sleep because all that was on my mind was that crap you had brought in here." he said, as if he had done something as innocent as changing the toilet paper.

"And the lock?"

"Well you weren't going to stop using my balcony, so I just asked a handyman to come up and put a lock on my door. I asked him to do it quietly so it wouldn't wake you. Oh, and while we're talking about my improvements, I got all the smoke alarms removed. Now you can smoke a nice distance away from me." Jim ends with a genuine smile and starts closing the door. I jam my foot in the door before it shuts.

"Yes?" Jim smiled happily.

At a loss of anything to say I just sighed and said, "I hate you." then I removed my foot and pulled the door shut, hard.

"I hate you too, darling," Jim called from inside his room.

You could hear his stupid little accented voice dripping with smugness.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the exact plot of this story but I'm a lazy writer so sorry if updates end up being a little slow. I will be updating Saving my Soldier I promise, I have the next couple of chapters drafted, I'm just being really lazy. Sorry.


End file.
